


Maybe More

by sweetindulgence (sweetdefault)



Series: Yautja Tales [2]
Category: Predator Original Series (1987-1990)
Genre: F/M, Porn Without Plot, can also be called
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24834991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetdefault/pseuds/sweetindulgence
Summary: Nothing gets her going like a hot muscular alien, money, and a good time.'Sequel' to Out Of This World.
Relationships: Predator/Human, Yautja (Predator)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Yautja Tales [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773715
Comments: 9
Kudos: 72





	Maybe More

**Author's Note:**

> Hello it is time for. Late Night Tired Procrastinating-On-Drosera Drabble. Ft. the return of Fiona the Bouncer and the Bad Blood Sharp Knife. 
> 
> These two have a thing going where Sharp Knife wants her to beg and Fiona's a stubborn woman who enjoys pushing his buttons. Good times are had in a little over 2k words.

Fiona throws her head back and screams as the second orgasm that night takes over. Her legs quiver and tremble as the Bad Blood buries his tongue into her core, licking and lapping everything he can get his mouth on. His mandibles tickle her pelvis and she writhes from the oversensitive nerves. The woman curses and pleads as Sharp Knife returns to lick her clit and stick fingers inside her, jamming them in and out with a ferocity that leaves Fiona mewling on the bed.

It is not the first time she’s allowed him to hire her. She recalls eight times prior, all with the simple request of going to his spacecraft and enjoying the night together in exchange for credits. She doesn’t know how he maintains his wealth, but she accepts again, and again, and again, until he stops propositioning her and simply shows up with a cocky trill her way.

She feels the man’s hands grope her bare ass. Sharp Knife hisses and sucks on her clit while his hands move back to her front and resume thrusting. Fiona throws her head back-and-forth, unable to keep any of her volume down even though she just orgasmed. Another orgasm falls upon her and she begins shaking and grinding her hips harder against the Yuatja’s hand, wrist, arm, face.

“Fucking bitch,” Fiona cries out, arching her back and squeezing his fingers. Her muscles strangle his digits, eliciting a string of chirps from the amused kv’var-de. Fiona is gracelessly picked up and turned over. She hisses at his sticky hands crudely digging into her bare flesh. When one hand smacks her right ass cheek, she groans. “Sharp Knife—”

Saying her name does something to the hunter. First, he grabs his mask. Then--He is on her in a moment, snarling and hissing in the language she cannot understand. This time, his bio-mask does not translate as he smacks her ass harder. His hands return to dig claws into her hips. He begins to knead her flesh and shifts to grind his covered groin against her bare pelvis. Fiona is incapable of doing anything but writhing when the friction of the man’s armored kilt presses and rubs against her vulva and clit. She bites her cheek to keep from crying out, from _pleading_ for him to take control.

“Beg for it.” The bio-mask’s monotonous translating service comes alive.

The bouncer huffs at him, attempting to rise only for his grip to tighten on her ass. One hand holds her in place while the other scales her back and trails a claw up to her hair. Sharp Knife easily entangles his fingers in her growing locs, giving her a sharp yank to assert he is the one in control. She gasps as he pulls again, forcing her back to arch. Her cunt is a sopping mess, both from her orgasms and from how intensely aroused she feels at that moment. This—his visit—is what she’s been waiting for weeks, and now she finally has him in her grasp—or perhaps the other way around—Fiona doesn’t want to give in and let it end.

The two have that strange sort of partnership. It’s closer to fuck buddies than a client and call-girl. Fiona has nothing against the latter, but though she’s engaged in sex for credits, she doesn’t feel inclined to treat him like a customer. He’s not like the horny fucks who come crawling into the Chickpea Night Walk looking for a fun time for free.

Sharp Knife has never not treated her with dignity outside the bedchamber. Pushed her buttons in his shameless puns and cocky attitude, but never expected things of her. He always leaves things open, the door to the exit clear as day. One time, Fiona recalls taking him up on the offer and calling the night there. She was pleased to learn he wasn’t the kind of asshat to try and manipulate a chick into doing what she didn’t want. Perhaps the two were strangers at first, but eight nights of intimacy and pillow talks does something to a person’s head. She thinks it does. She feels closer to him than any bastard ex of hers.

It makes the electricity running up and down her spine more unbearable intoxicating. To be in the Bad Blood’s grasp while she gives him control over her, over her _body,_ knowing he can be trusted with her, with it, it drives her up a docking bay’s wall. She pants desperately when the Yautja resumes grinding against her. The thought to give in—submit—to him enters her mind, but Fiona puts it off for a bit longer in a lengthy hiss at him. “Try harder, hotshot—”

The armored kilt comes off in a second. The Yautja growls and releases her head to stroke himself. She sees his length from over her shoulder; it is hulking in size, massive, and appears to throb with the warrior’s own desire. When the bumps and ridges of his cock’s head begin to slide and thrust against—but not into—her entrance, Fiona’s eyes squeeze shut and she releases a breathy yell.

The man rolls his hips lazily, cock sailing smooth against her pelvis and kissing her vulva but never quite pushing in. He leans forward, one hand holding him up over her while the other reaches for her torso and lifts her chest enough to wrench one breast in hand. His claws find her erect nipple and she begins to weep in pleasure as his rough, coarse fingers and sharp claws pinch and play with the swollen tissue. Fiona bucks her hips at him, squirming with want.

“Not until you beg, woman.” Sharp Knife growls at her. He has considerable patience.

Fiona growls at his bedchamber’s ceiling. “You’re full of shit.”

“For the pretty ones.” The Bad Blood snaps in return, pinching her nipple and clicking his mandibles in laughter when she moans.

“Ya still find me pretty, huh?” The lady pauses a second in thought. Her hands tense into fists on the Yautja’s bed when he unclasps his mask, leans down, and lets his long tongue snake out to her cunt. It flicks her entrance and she shakes in pleasure. “You can’t—Keep—Me waiting— Fuck! Oh, fuck, fuck—”

The Yautja clicks at her but she can’t follow the words. Fiona finds herself pushing her hips against the man’s face as he spreads her wide with his mandibles and hands. His tongue plunges into her, the long muscle dragging along her walls until it reaches the peak of pleasure in a soft, hyper-sensitive spot deep within her. Sharp Knife gives it one lap. Fiona throws her head back and forth in the pleasure. When her Yautja begins to dig at the point inside her, when his tongue laps and rubs circles, it becomes too much for her. Fiona’s body locks up and she screams in an agonized wave of release. The woman’s orgasm is prolonged by Sharp Knife’s tongue, which presses beyond her clenching walls and dances across the same pleasure point inside her. She whimpers and shakes against him, limbs twitching erratically when she cannot physically release again during the existing orgasm.

He draws back. She pants on his bed. The warrior begins to growl and click what sounds like curses. Fiona opens her mouth, intending to taunt or even goad him, but she finds herself tensing in surprise as the head of Sharp Knife’s cock presses inside her. It is too fast for her to adjust or prepare for; one second the hunter is out, the next he fills her completely, his hips smacking against her ass as he invades inside. Sharp Knife roars in satisfaction and leans over her. She finds her body goes weak under his grasp when he shoves himself in to the hilt and wrenches her legs open to take him to the last inch. He bucks up and she screams.

“Sharp Knife—Sharp—Fuck—Fuck! Fuck—” Fiona repeats the sentiment as the man claims her. He effortlessly picks her up and holds her in place while she takes him, her back to his chest. She finds it hard to breathe as he stabs her with his cock. Sharp Knife wastes no time setting the pace, leaving her burning, stretched, and in unfathomable pleasure as he touches every last part of her.

The head of his cock smacks into her cervix. She screams again, this time in pain, but part of her bleeds arousal as she begins squirming against him. He stops long enough for her to shift the way he holds her before he grabs her hips and begins to pound up into her. Sharp Knife lays her on the bed face-down. His massive frame and body weight pins her in place while he fucks her relentlessly, roaring all the while. His hand goes to her hair once again and Fiona begins to curse and clamp muscles around him. It pleases the Yautja; he howls in triumph and thrusts erratically.

“God—Yes—Yes—” She whimpers at him when he jams himself against the pleasure point deep inside her. Sharp Knife’s cock begins to swell and engorge with blood. The head drags and scrapes along her cunt as he withdraws to the head only to smack back in at full force. Fiona’s entire body tenses and she begins uttering prayers to a god she doesn’t believe in. The precipice comes into sight and she lets Sharp Knife pull her up it, impaled on his cock while he pounds into her like a rabbit in heat. He lets out a great, long howl as he wraps arms around her abdomen and picks her back up. She slacks against him, whimpering syllables and repeating his name in increasing volume as the man’s pace speeds up. Fiona becomes a mess of, “Sharp Knife—Sharp—Fuck—Fuck!”

She begins to weep when he pushes her over him, thrusting his cock up to her cervix. The heat of his semen sprays out and she screams from how hot he is. Sharp Knife growls and continues to pump into her as he rides the high of his climax. The noise falls until it is a wet slapping noise, weak and spaced out with him dumping his load inside her in tiny thrusts. The spurts become thicker as he comes more, filling her to the point his cock finally stops in place as if held by suction. Sharp Knife hisses and nuzzles her back with his head. His mandibles tickle her neck and he slowly—carefully—begins to pull out, only for Fiona to begin whimpering at the sensation. She presses her back into his chest.

Sharp Knife tears himself free of her. She cries his name as he forces his cock out, semen continuing to dribble a few seconds before he finishes his load. He looks down at her with deep eyes, the kind she can never truly understand. Fiona begins to roll on her back, but she pauses when Sharp Knife scoops her off the bed and into his arms. The large, muscular warrior has a strange look to him when he holds her, ignoring his seed spilling out of her spent body. He begins to purr. It is loud, he vibrates, and it fills her with a gasping, breathless warmth.

She squirms and settles against him as he continues to purr in knowing triumph. It is not until later, in the darkness of his ship’s bedchamber, that Fiona lays next to him in a now-clean bed while he spoons her from behind. His arm drapes lazily over her waist, occasionally dipping to her legs and feeling her clit between them. Fiona rolls her eyes. She relaxes against his nude body. She lets him encircle her form while he clicks in satisfaction.

“Look at that.” The bouncer mumbles as Sharp Knife continues to vibrate and purr for her. “Looks like I _won._ Funny how that… How it works.” She yawns and nestles closer to him. Her eyes slide shut, and she relaxes completely.

Tomorrow, she has opening shift at the Chickpea Night Walk. Tonight, she intends to sleep in the arms of someone she tolerates. Maybe more.


End file.
